


In the Beginning

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: After saving the world, Aziraphale asks Crowley a question that goes all the way back to the wall of Eden.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 104





	In the Beginning

Aziraphale had been saving up a few questions for oh, around six thousand years, give or take a decade. 

“Questions which I could not ask, given our rather special circumstances,” he explained to Crowley after that lovely champagne lunch at the Ritz, where they had toasted the new world. “Not without fretting over who might be listening. I am, as you well know, my dear, extraordinarily good at fretting.”

After that long lunch, and a stroll through St. James’s Park, they had repaired to the bookshop, where Crowley sprawled on the sofa, swirling a glass of wine. He had dispensed with those hideous sunglasses, which no longer hid his lovely amber, snake-slitted eyes. His lips twitched upward into that well-known half-smile of affectionate amusement. “I do know.”

Aziraphale sat in his customary place, the armchair near his desk, turned to face the sofa. He had taken off his coat. His own glass of wine sat on the desk, untouched. He preferred to stay mostly sober for this conversation, which was ever so important – this dialogue which had waited for six millennia to take place.

“I fretted because the ducks do have ears,” he said, with an answering, affectionate smile of his own. “Do you know that I used to worry that one of the black ducks was a demon in disguise, spying on our every meeting in the park?”

“I doubt that a demon would willingly turn into a duck, Angel. Even _they_ have standards.”

“Oh, do they? Well, it was a silly concern, of course. I should have been much more anxious over the Earth Observation Cameras.” Theoretically, Heaven could see anything, anywhere, anytime, and record it for posterity. Though of course, _someone_ would have to comb through the billions of photographic records to find any misdeeds, and Heaven had been blessedly incompetent when it came to such tasks.

“Never worried me,” Crowley replied with a nonchalant wave of a hand. “I got in the habit of checking, whenever we met up, that no one was looking, just as I did in the park before we swapped back our corporations. Yeah, I may have forgotten now and then, but that didn’t seem to matter. I doubt that our former sides were paying as much attention as either of us feared. I’ll bet you could have asked whatever those burning questions of yours are a long time ago, with none the wiser.”

“Perhaps I could have.” Which made him wonder why _Crowley_ , if he were as carefree about it as he claimed, had never asked any questions of his own long ago. “Perhaps you could have, too.”

“Possibly.” Crowley held his wine glass in both hands. He stared into it as he slowly swirled the liquid round and round. “But would the answers have been freely given?”

He had a point there. Aziraphale would have been hard pressed to tell the truth, if he had even the slightest suspicion that Heaven was listening. He had certainly lied often enough over their long friendship—mostly about the very existence of that friendship. “Probably not.”

Crowley stopped twirling his glass and took a long drink, and then licked his lips afterwards. “So.” He sat up straighter, and turned a penetrating gaze upon Aziraphale. “What have you been wondering about for six thousand years?” 

That gaze unsettled Aziraphale—as if Crowley were looking straight into his soul. “A lot of things.” _Though mostly one thing._ Why did he suddenly feel a fierce warmth flow through him, as if the embers from a long-smoldering fire had leapt to life?

_Those eyes…_ that gaze made Aziraphale feel a burning sensation deep in his chest. Something had changed between them. All the worrying, all the fretting—and all the denials that he had perfected—had been extinguished the moment they walked out of Heaven and Hell, alive and free. Something had changed within him, too, because of a certain intense stare the likes of which he’d not seen before.

“Are we going to be up all night at this, then, Angel?”

Aziraphale started. “Sorry. We might, at that.” He raised his eyebrows in entreaty. “Do you mind?”

That intense gaze lightened as Crowley cast him a warm smile full of deep affection. His body swayed in a gentle serpentine manner as he leaned forward. “I’m free to be with you, Angel.” Then his eyes brightened as his voice dropped lower, and softer. “If you asked me to stay here forever, I would.”

Aziraphale bit his lip as a well of emotion swelled through him at the words. He blinked back a hint of tears, and let out a soft sigh. _Stay forever…he knew what that meant_. In that singular moment, as Crowley’s eyes shone with an unfamiliar light—a strange fire that touched him to the core, Aziraphale saw the answer to a question he had not yet asked—and in that moment, his heart’s desire felt unchained at last. “It may come to that.” He brushed an errant tear away, and then he smiled. “It _should_ come to that.” 

“Why are you still sitting over there, then, away from me?” Crowley set his wine glass on the coffee table. He sank against the sofa back, one arm stretched out across its top. “We’re _free_.”

What was that fluttering sensation in his abdomen? Aziraphale knew what love felt like—angelic love for all God’s creatures felt wide and soft and diffused, while the platonic love of friendship for his sole, lifelong companion on Earth felt deep and warm and full of wonder. Yet the feeling he had now was filled with that strange fire…and somehow it jolted through him like lightning. _What kind of love is this?_

He rose, took a steadying breath, and crossed to the sofa, and sat close enough for Crowley’s outstretched arm to fall naturally around his shoulders. _Ah_. No lightning now, though he felt fire dance along his spine…flames of love, a kind of love he did not know…but he wanted to.

“I do have a question,” Crowley said. “But it can wait. Go on, then. Ask away.”

He had a mental list, one that he’d added to over the centuries, never losing track of a single question along the way. Where better to begin, though, then the very beginning, when they had met atop the wall of Eden? 

“I’ve always wanted to know why, during our first conversation, you behaved as if we were already friends.” 

It had puzzled him completely. Aziraphale had found it peculiar enough to be joined atop the wall by a demon, and even more perplexing when the fellow smiled and chatted away so casually, so _comfortably_ —as if they had known each other forever.

“Oh, that’s easy—because you weren’t a demon.”

“Whatever do you mean? Of course I wasn’t. What did that have to with it?”

Crowley shifted a little closer. “Demons don’t _have_ friends. Not in any meaningful way, that is—maybe a regular acquaintance or two, but not anyone who _matters_. No one you’d ever care about for long. But angels have friends. Good ones, close ones—someone you always want to be near.”

Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand tighten against his shoulder. “Yes. They do.”

“You were the first angel I’d seen since the…since the War in Heaven. You were the only chance I’d ever get to feel that kind of closeness again. I was determined to be the friendliness damned demon you had ever encountered, and I was never going to give up on that chance.”

How long had Crowley been in Hell, alone—while cursed with the ability to imagine the joys of friendship—a friendship that could never be…Aziraphale shuddered. “I’m so glad it was me.” This time, he shifted closer, until their thighs touched. “I didn’t understand it, the way you behaved towards me. But I found it curious enough to wonder where it would lead—such affection from my ‘enemy’. And after a while, I got used to it, and came to look forward to our encounters. Yes, angels may have friends, but only in Heaven.” He lay a hand on Crowley’s thigh and pressed lightly. “It would have been so lonely on Earth without you.”

Crowley lay a hand atop his. “You seem to be answering my question.”

Aziraphale looked at their joined hands. “Would it have something to do with love?” He spoke as calmly as he could manage, given the flames threatening to consume him.

“It does.”

“Ah. Rather a large topic, isn’t it?” Aziraphale pressed their hands together. “Angels are created to love—and yet, the longer I dwelled on Earth, the more I felt something missing. All the love that I gave to Earth’s creatures shone brightly when I sent it forth, and then vanished, while I still stood in the darkness—except for one faint glow—one solitary ember that seemed to drift in and out of my reach.”

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t think I’ve been called an ember before.”

“I didn’t know what it was at first. Wasn’t certain that I wanted it—that was due to my fretful nature again, as always. Be wary of anything unusual. But as time went on, and on and on, that ember kept growing, and the darkness slipped away more and more. Yes, that was you, my dear.” He had given so much to the world, every day, all the year through, for all the endless years…a solitary angel on Earth, perpetually confused by the shadows, by the dark deeds the humans persisted in committing while he did his best to offer solace, comfort, a simple miracle. He had walked in the shadows day after day, until the day he came to realize he wasn’t there alone. That singular ember haunting his steps had flickered into life, with a glow all its own—and on that day, Aziraphale knew it was trying to shine for _him_ —to show him the way.

Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes, and knew that his dear friend didn’t need any lengthy explanation. “Of course I love you.” He leaned in to place a soft kiss on Crowley’s forehead. “There was no true light in my life before you came into it.”

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, and brought their hands to his lips, and kissed their joined fingertips. “I loved your own light, Angel. And I love you.”

“Is that why I feel as if I were on fire inside?” 

“Me, too.” Crowley pulled him into an embrace, their foreheads touching. “There’s something new there…yes?”

_Angelic love…_ this he knew. _Platonic love_ …this he was well acquainted with. _What was this different love…something untried…something more than merely this physical expression they were so tentatively exploring now. Because he felt that it didn’t_ need _to be expressed physically, though it could…and he wouldn’t say no to that…no, he knew what this was. This was what he had found on Earth since the beginning, since Adam and Eve. This was a human love—this was what they had named romantic love. A love that spoke beyond Heaven, a love that was measured in more than friendship alone, a love that entered deep inside and burned within them, as a uniting flame._

“We’re not two,” he replied. “That’s what has happened. You and I, after all this time—after all of the good moments, and all of the bad ones, too, after so many, many centuries of being together, being _there_ for each other, of being the one you always thought of first whenever darkness fell, after all this time—we are no longer apart in any way at all.”

_How long have we been friends…six thousand years._ But they had been _separate_ , even though together, unable to be true to themselves or to each other. All this time.

Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s chin. “I only answered one of your questions, Aziraphale. Didn’t you have a lot more?”

Somehow, all those questions he’d been saving up vanished from his memory like autumn leaves in a swirling wind. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We’re starting over.”

Crowley nodded. “This time, without Heaven or Hell’s chains around our hearts.” He touched Aziraphale’s lips. “May I kiss my dearest friend?”

“You may, my dear.”

And when they touched their lips together, the fire within Aziraphale touched the flame inside Crowley’s soul. He felt love—and he felt _loved_ —beyond all the forms of love he had ever known, with one caress, with a wondrous merging of mind and heart, of body and spirit. And yet for all that, it was but a short, simple kiss, light and even a little tentative. A beginning…it was the beginning of their new world. 

He rested his head then, on Crowley’s shoulder, curled up around him, with Crowley’s arms around him, holding him close. “I remember what you said earlier.”

“Hm? About what?”

“That you would stay here forever, if I wanted.” He lay his hand on Crowley’s chest. “If you truly want to.”

“I found my best friend here,” Crowley replied. “Why would I ever go anywhere else?” He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Forever. And a day.”

_In the beginning…_ Aziraphale closed his eyes. “And a night, my dear.”

“Are you falling asleep on me, Angel?” Crowley shifted a little, settling lower on the sofa. “Literally?”

“I believe that I am. It has been, all in all, a rather taxing day.”

“Hm. You could say that. Kidnapped, taken to our places of destruction, thwarting Heaven and Hell and gaining our freedom, swapping corporations back, drinking a lot of champagne, and declaring our love. Must have taxed you, Angel—you forgot to eat dinner.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I never thought I’d say this, but—it can wait.”

“Really?” Crowley smiled back. “Amazing.” Then he yawned. “Ah. I seem to be a bit tired myself.”

“Sleep, then. I’ll wake up when I’m hungry, and then I’ll wake you up so you can drive us back to the Ritz for a late meal.”

“Mm-hm. Is that how this goes—I do whatever you want now? Just because I said that I loved you?”

Aziraphale snuggled tightly against him. “You always did that anyway. No need to stop.”

He felt Crowley’s hand brushing lightly through his hair. “You got me there, Angel.”

“Have a good nap, my dear.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers. “Awake after having a lovely dream about whatever you like best.”

“Miracle me a dream about you, then.” There was a pause. “Or maybe one about a long, fast drive on the motorway in the Bentley.”

“Dream on,” Aziraphale replied. And then he slowly drifted off to sleep, as a wave of happiness and tenderness and warmth flowed through him, and as he fell away into darkness—one that yet, somehow, felt full of light—he drifted into his own lovely dream where an angel and a demon met in a garden…and where this time, nothing and no one stopped them from falling in love.


End file.
